Hunter's World Crumbles at Party

The funeral home smelled of lilies and false sympathy. I sat across from the director, a man with kind eyes who clearly didn't know how to handle Hunter's approach to our daughter's burial.

"We're thinking of a small, private service," Hunter said, not looking up from his phone. "Nothing that would attract media attention."

I stared at him, unable to process how he could be texting during this conversation. "Luna deserves a proper funeral, Hunter. She was six years old."

"Exactly." He finally looked up, his eyes cold. "Which is why we need to consider the company's image. A public spectacle would be... inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?" My voice cracked. "Our daughter is dead."

"The Singapore merger is in a delicate phase," he continued as if I hadn't spoken. "Any negative publicity could affect investor confidence."

The funeral director cleared his throat awkwardly. "Perhaps we could compromise? A small service with close family only?"

"No flowers," Hunter said decisively. "No music. No eulogies. Just a simple ceremony and then straight to the cemetery."

I thought of Luna's favorite songs, the ones we sang together in the car. The drawings she'd made that I'd kept in a scrapbook. The memories I wanted to share with those who had known her.

"No," I said quietly. "I want people to remember her."

Hunter's phone buzzed again. He checked it immediately. "I have to take this. Work emergency."

He walked out of the funeral home, leaving me alone with the director and the growing realization that my husband truly didn't care.

---

The day of Luna's funeral dawned gray and cold, appropriate for the occasion. I stood at the graveside in a black dress that felt too heavy, watching as they lowered my daughter's small coffin into the ground.

Hunter was nowhere to be seen.

Rebecca squeezed my hand. "He'll come," she whispered, though we both knew it was a lie.

Twenty minutes into the service, Hunter finally appeared, straightening his tie as he approached. He slipped into place beside me, his expression carefully neutral.

"Traffic," he murmured, not meeting my eyes.

I said nothing, focusing on the priest's words about Luna's short but meaningful life. When it came time for family members to speak, I stepped forward, my voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall.

"Luna was..." I began, but Hunter's phone buzzed loudly.

He glanced at it, then stood up. "I need to take this. Business emergency."

Before I could stop him, he walked away from our daughter's grave, phone pressed to his ear.

"Thomas, I'm here. What's the situation?"

I finished my speech with trembling lips, watching Hunter pace at the edge of the cemetery, gesturing emphatically as he discussed whatever deal couldn't wait.

When the service ended, he immediately approached me.

"I need to go," he said, already checking his watch. "The board is waiting."

"Where is your heart?" I asked quietly.

He looked at me as if I'd spoken in a foreign language. "I'll make it up to you," he said, squeezing my shoulder briefly before walking away.

I watched him leave, something hardening inside me. This wasn't grief or anger anymore. This was resolve.

---

Two weeks later, I was sorting through Luna's things when Rebecca called.

"Gwen, you need to come downtown immediately," she said urgently. "It's about Hunter and Valery."

I found them at an upscale restaurant, Valery's hand possessively on Hunter's arm as they shared an intimate dinner.

"Mrs. Woods." Valery's smile was triumphant as she saw me approach. "We were just discussing you."

Hunter looked up, annoyance flashing across his face. "Gwen, this isn't a good time."

Valery slid a stack of papers across the table. "I think it's time you signed these."

I glanced down at the top sheet. Divorce papers. With Hunter's signature already in place.

"How did you get his signature?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

Valery's smile widened. "Hunter gave me his signing authority months ago. For 'emergencies.'"

"These papers claim I'm mentally unstable," I said, scanning the document. "That I've been harassing you about the accident."

"It's not harassment to want justice," Valery replied smoothly. "But your behavior has been concerning. Hunter agrees."

I looked at Hunter, waiting for him to deny it, to show some shred of loyalty to our marriage.

He met my eyes briefly before looking away. "It's for the best, Gwen."

In that moment, I understood that Hunter wasn't just lost to me—he was actively working against me. And Valery wasn't just his mistress—she was my enemy.

As I walked away from the restaurant, something crystallized inside me. The grief and shock that had paralyzed me since Luna's death hardened into something else entirely.

Revenge.